


called your name (til the fever broke)

by brightlyburning



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Double Penetration, Fantasizing, Light Masochism, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:15:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25649410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightlyburning/pseuds/brightlyburning
Summary: Felix is too big for his skin, oversensitive, every inch of him demanding touch and angry at the unfulfilled desire, and it only gets worse when he rolls onto his side and peels his legs apart, glancing down to find that his inner thighs gleam with mingled sweat and arousal. His body flutters and clenches around emptiness, the muscles of his ass tighten as if to thrust, and Goddess, this is miserable.How dare Dimitri do this to him?Another rock of his hips rubs him against the edge of a pillow, and he shudders as the fabric drags down his folds, the friction making him tighten against it. This... might work.(Seven thousand-word fics about Felix getting off for Fire Emblem: Three Houses Wank Week.)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 20
Kudos: 126
Collections: Wank Week 2020





	1. Experimentation

**Author's Note:**

> For Fire Emblem: Three Houses Wank Week. Please be forewarned that Felix uses the terms 'cunt' and 'clit' for his anatomy in this fic.

Felix rolls over in his bed and groans into the mattress, ignoring how it blasts his own hot breath against his face. Stupid, irritating, beautiful Dimitri, with his arms, and his chest, and the way the sweat from their spar had made the thin white cloth of his tunic cling to both of them. Stupid himself, for wanting Dimitri to return to the man he'd been before, and for finding Dimitri attractive despite knowing he never would.

Dimitri would call him disgruntled, but Felix has every right to be so. The night presses sticky and still against his skin, even Garreg Mach missing breezes, and kicking off the coverlet and sheets and shoving the pillows down the bed hasn't done anything to quell the irritating prickle of sweat. To say nothing of other feelings.

Felix's breasts, used to being bound and small as they are, still tingle with heat, the fabric of the sheets scraping against his tightly-drawn nipples in an awful tease. The sudden bright flash of pain as he catches one in a sheet crease has him gasping, the electric thrill of it setting up a steady drumbeat in his clit, matched to the rhythm of his heart.

He's too big for his skin, oversensitive, every inch of him demanding touch and angry at the unfulfilled desire, and it only gets worse when he rolls onto his side and peels his legs apart, glancing down to find that his inner thighs gleam with mingled sweat and arousal. His cunt flutters and clenches around emptiness, the muscles of his ass tighten as if to thrust, and Goddess, this is miserable. 

How dare Dimitri do this to him?

Another rock of his hips rubs his cunt against the edge of a pillow, and he shudders as the fabric drags down his folds, the friction making him tighten against it. This... might work.

He shoves himself upright to frown at the pillow, lifting his sweat-damp hair off the equally-damp back of his neck. It does nothing to help. When he's managed to bring himself to orgasm with his fingers, rare as those occasions are, it's required a lot of pressure, and pillows aren't known for being particularly sturdy. Perhaps if he folded it?

The pillow protests being made to bend in two, but the pillow will just have to deal, Felix is aroused and angry and he doesn't even know which one he is at any given moment. He fumbles into straddling it, the fabric clinging to his slick thighs, and then, holding his breath, lowers himself onto the crease at the top.

"Ah," he gasps, the sound horrifyingly close to a whimper, as the pressure on his cunt relieves some of the insistent angry ache. Would- would Dimitri like that sound, the edge of pleading in it? Would his voice drop to that low growl that still makes Felix's entire being go dazed and breathless with wanting?

He tries a testing roll of his hips, dropping his head forward to watch how the drag stretches his pink folds, leaves a wet streak behind, and the sight of his own need, so blatant and shameless and out of his control, has him breathing a shaky curse. The angle isn't quite right for his clit to get the pressure he needs. Maybe if he leans forward?

He plants his forearms on the mattress, and oh, yes, that's so much better: easier to curl his hips forward so they rub just right, the friction stroking his pulsing clit and pushing another moan from his chest. Dimitri would- he'd say, from where he'd sit at the end of the bed, watching Felix with dark eyes, the knowledge of him watching Felix hump the pillow like- like a slut, an animal, enough to make Felix light-headed,

_'You're so loud, Felix, is it that good? Did you need my cock so badly you’d fuck anything? Do I need to gag you?'_

Fucking Saints. Felix lifts a hand and shoves his fingers into his mouth, teeth scraping at his knuckles. His hand is slimmer than Dimitri's, the fingers less blunt, but it smells the same - weapons oil and ink - tastes the same - warm skin, salt- 

He'd be so good, would suck Dimitri's fingers so worshipfully to thank him for keeping Felix quiet, for keeping him from disturbing the neighbors. Maybe Dimitri would put his hand in his hair, stroke it back from his face, or-

His hips shudder, losing the smooth circle he’s found works best. Maybe he’d pinch Felix’s nipples, roll them between thumb and forefinger. Yes. 

Felix drags his fingers out of his mouth, drops them to thumb meanly at his nipple, and the new sensation sears down his spine. It’s like his nipples and his cunt are connected by a lightning spell, vibrating in harmony, and any slight motion plucks at the lightning, make it flicker and grow until he’s shoved his face back into the mattress.

He twists his nipple, pants out a rough noise at the red and black flare of pain-pleasure. The wet noise of his cunt slipping over the pillow, the cloth dark with his arousal - they drive him higher, make him frantic with need, his hips rolling and thrusting against the pillow.

All of him clenches, dizzy with it, the filthy animal dampness of his saliva where he’s drooled onto the mattress with lust. His nipples burn, sore and swollen and tender with tugging, pinching. His toes curl in the sheets at the bottom of the bed, all of his muscles aching with tension, and all of him strings tight-

What would Dimitri say, from the end of the bed, his voice a bare husk, all power and authority-

_‘Oh, Felix. Come, you filthy gorgeous thing.’_

His hips slam into the pillow, and the strings snap, leaving him to jerk out his climax against the rough cloth of the pillowcase. His vision fades into black, and time halts- he hangs, suspended, and wails out Dimitri’s name into the mattress. 


	2. Fantasizing

Dimitri's alive.

Alive, and changed: drawn hollow with hatred and yearning, the blue of his eye darkened in hunger. Five years ago Dimitri had been beautiful, all careful words and movement; now, his beauty is brutal, in the clench of his fingers about a spear, the swell of his muscle, the terrible rumble of his voice. There's little of grace to him now, and much of savagery, his motions harsh, his words clipped, and still, still, Felix wants him. Desires him with an intensity that leaves him dazed and shaking, even knowing the beast Dimitri has become. 

Still. Felix trails his hands down over his body, thinner too with war, and cups his breasts, aching from the day's binding, to pet callused thumbs over his nipples, the tender pink areolae around them. He's never found his breasts much use in anything other than pleasure, regards them with bemused acceptance, but... might Dimitri-

_Looming from the darkness at the end of the bed, his hair and eye the only things visible in the candlelight, Dimitri drags his ravenous gaze down Felix's body, lingering on his breasts, the damp pink folds of his cunt. His voice rasps against Felix's skin and leaves goosebumps prickling in his wake._

_"Look at your pretty tits - so pale, they'd bruise under my mouth. Could hold one in just my palm with how small they are-"_

Felix squeezes his tits, savors the way his hips shudder at the pressure, and leans his head back against the pillows with a sigh. He closes his eyes, the better to imagine.

_"-and your little pink nipples- would you whine for me if I suckled them?"_

Oh, that's good. The image makes his cunt clench: the bowed blond head at his chest, the mouth that had been smeared in blood sealed about his nipple, the vicious tongue curling, lapping-

Felix wets his fingers in his mouth, and the pressure against his tongue, the tingle in his lips, sparks a new thought, makes his blood pound.

_"Not so fierce now, are you, with my cock in your sweet mouth? That's what you've needed all along, isn't it?" Dimitri's cock lies heavy on his tongue, overwhelms him with the scent and taste of him, pushes at the back of his throat and forces tears to his eyes. His massive hands cup Felix's head, trembling with barely-restrained power, fingers flexing and curling in Felix's hair. Felix could give in to such strength, could trust himself to it, let someone else carry the fight._

Breathless, Felix yanks his fingers from his mouth, drops both hands to pinch his nipples, back arching into the sweet vicious pull of it. The pleasure spears him, drags at his cunt, up his spine, forces itself out of him in a high, thin whine.

_"Oh, Felix. I knew you'd cry for me, knew if I could just get you on your knees you'd beg for it, you pretty thing." Dimitri lets go of Felix's tits, his nipples puffy and red and so sore a mere breath against them makes him shudder, his skin marked with dark love bites, the bruised imprint of Dimitri's fingers. He trails fingers down the trembling flat of his belly, terribly gentle, all leashed potential, and then his callused fingertips ease over Felix's mound. Black curls crinkle against his palm. "Spread those lovely thighs for me, let me see what's mine."_

Felix pets his damp fingers over his folds, his body rising into the friction and aching for touch. The sheets stick to his sweat-slick back, and the pillow slides against his cheek where he's breathed out his need. Trembling, he works the hood of his clit back to stroke at the left side, where he likes it best, and hisses at the jolt of heat.

 _Dimitri's stepped closer, stands at the side of the bed. He strokes Felix's thigh, the grip proprietary, possessive, as if Felix is- is something_ owned _. "There we go. Good boy. Show me how wet you are, how much your greedy little cunt needs me in it."_

His face burns. He inches his fingers down, through damp hot folds - Goddess, he's wet - and spreads himself with a filthy slick sound, sucking in a breath as the cool night air licks at where he's open and vulnerable, empty. Needy, just like Dimitri said.

_"Your hole's dripping, Felix. Clutching at the air like a hungry little mouth, and yet it's so tiny. I’d have to work you for hours just to fit the tip of my cock in you. Would you let me make you gape, leave you red and swollen, leaking my come?"_

Dimitri would never be so uncouth, but this is Felix's fantasy. He shivers, curling first one, then two fingers inside himself. The stretch burns, the tissue of his hole kissing at his palm, but the pain only has him tightening around his fingers, and Goddess, Dimitri was right; his body milks at his knuckles in wanton desperation. His back arches, pressing him further onto his fingers.

_"Keep fondling those pretty little tits." Dimitri cocks his head, and the slow sweep of his gaze over Felix's body, marked and flushed red, makes Felix's toes curl. "And don't forget about your clit; look how hard and hungry it is. Show me how you fuck yourself, make yourself come for me. "_

Felix shudders, rubs his thumb in tight hard circles over his clit. The friction sears him, curls in expectant tension between the cradle of his hips. He squeezes one tit in his other hand, plucks his nipple into a hard stiff peak. His body trembles, his hips thrusting greedily at the empty air, rocking against where his thumb presses deep against his clit, rolls it beneath his fingertip.

"Oh, _oh_ -" the sound tears itself from him, uncontrolled and wanton, as he curls into himself, hips juddering against his palm, his thumb. Waves of tension roll through him, his cunt tightening and releasing against his fingers, and he cries out his climax.


	3. Mutual Masturbation

"I'm ready," Felix says from his territory on the ridiculously comfortable couch. He scrutinizes Dimitri's blush, spreading down from his cheeks to flirt with his collarbones. "Are you?" For all Dimitri's intelligence, he's managed to remain infuriatingly reserved about bodily matters.

Dimitri plucks at the towel covering his hips, the same kind of towel draped over Felix. "I'm fine as well." He licks his lips. The hard muscle of his calf flexes against Felix's where they've tangled their legs together. "Then, if you're sure...?"

Always so polite, even though Felix has told him again and again that he wants this. Felix solves the issue by yanking his towel off, leaving himself bared to Dimitri's ravenous gaze. All of him: his ribcage and breasts marked with the red lines of the bandages he wears during the day, the soft swell of his belly where peace has made its mark, his damp folds.

Dimitri swallows, breathes, "Felix, you're beautiful," and he sounds for all the world like he means it. Beneath his towel, his cock leaps.

"Thanks," Felix says, brisk, pushing past the embarrassed swirl of pleasure in his chest, the aching desire to kiss Dimitri's kiss-swollen mouth. He'd spent so long believing no one would love him as he was, would continue to push him into a role that never fit, and yet, Dimitri exists. "Now you."

Dimitri's blush is infuriatingly endearing, spreading from his cheeks to his ears, the sun-speckled tops of his wide shoulders, the breadth of his chest. With a deep breath, he tugs his own towel off, lets it fall.

Oh. He's unfairly gorgeous, all sturdy muscle and golden skin, his chest and stomach downed with light blond hair, and Felix's mouth dries with the urge to bite. Then, at the juncture of his thighs, his cock. Felix's felt it before in their hurried groping in hallways and empty chambers, caught shameful glances in the sauna at Garreg Mach, but now, now he has time to look.

His skin prickles with the wanton pleasure of observation, even as the only thing passing through Felix's mind is an awed and irritated, ' _Goddess, he's huge._ ' Because of course Dimitri had to be; not enough to be a savior king and a once-in-a-generation warrior, he had to pack an enormous cock as well. Not just long, gracefully curved, but thick, filling out the circle of Dimitri's fingers without trouble, and Felix's cunt pulses at the image.

"Er, Felix?"

"Yes," he replies, automatic, all of his attention fixed on Dimitri's cock. It twitches beneath his gaze. 

"May I see you?"

Felix blinks, forces his gaze up from where he's enraptured by Dimitri's thumb idly circling beneath the head of his cock, the pearl of clear fluid beading in the slit. His breasts and cunt throb with his heartbeat. 

"Yeah." He pushes himself up against the arm, lifts one leg to hook it over the back of the couch, and lets the other one dangle to the floor, leaving himself spread, open for Dimitri's perusal. Then, while Dimitri watches, wide-eyed, his jaw tight, Felix slides his fingers between his folds and parts them with a slick sound, too loud in the silence. His cheeks burn when he imagines what Dimitri must see: tender bare skin, pink and trembling, and the little hole at the bottom, fluttering and clutching at the empty air.

Dimitri groans, deep in his chest, when Felix clenches at the brush of his thumb over his clit. "Goddess, you're gorgeous." His fingers tighten about his cock, pushing a startled moan from him.

"No more than you," Felix says, and swallows down the instinctive growl when Dimitri stares at him with a stupidly soft smile, the thin skin about his eye creased with the force of it. "Now come on, show me how you do it."

Dimitri's smile fades into a wolfish focus. He twists, wets his hand in the dish of oil on the side table, and wraps it back around his cock. "As my beloved wishes." His bicep swells as he strokes from tip to base, his cock gleaming in the candlelight. He leans against the arm of the couch, head tipping back, exposing the damp hollow of his throat, the twitch when he swallows with each stroke.

Felix reciprocates, pressing his thumb over his clit and circling deep, his other hand hefting one breast, fingers tight about the nipple. His abdomen tightens, hips rocking up into the force of his hand, and he whines between his teeth, the noise answered by Dimitri's low moan.

Dimitri rolls his head forward, gaze intent on where Felix works himself, thumb stroking at the side of his clit. He licks his lips, and what would that feel like: that hot mouth on Felix's cunt? Those sharp teeth, so close?

The couch shudders beneath them as Dimitri jerks up into the circle of his fist, grunting, the head of his cock dark and glistening. More beads of precome roll down the shaft, disappear beneath the white-knuckled flex of his hand. His chest heaves, his nostrils flare; he looks bestial with need, like he's seconds away from lunging across the couch to bury his face in Felix's body. The blush on his chest has spread downward, beneath the golden hair trailing down from his navel, and, oh-

Felix's body jerks, his hands going tight, toes curling- he manages to keep his eyes open, fixed on Dimitri, as he shudders through orgasm, breath hitching. His limbs turn to water, heavy, twitching with the aftershocks.

"Felix," Dimitri breathes, and then he groans as if he's been struck. He comes, white trailing over his knuckles as he works himself. “Felix, oh-” He falls back against the couch, tears his hand away.

Their gazes meet, and Dimitri, a smile tugging at his lips, leans across the space between them to tuck Felix’s tangled hair behind his ear. His smile grows when Felix, lazy with satiation, turns to press a messy kiss into the hollow of his palm.


	4. Toys

Felix lets go of the toy and sits back on his heels, wiping his hand off on a towel. He'd bought it in Abyss on his last journey to Garreg Mach and smuggled it back to Fhirdiad in the bottom of his trunk, and now it's...

Well, it's _here_ , thrusting proudly upwards from the center of their bed in the royal palace.

"That's, er, rather large, isn't it?" says Dimitri, sprawled at the foot of the bed, the candlelight pooling in the hollows of his throat, the lovely line of his collarbone. 

"It wouldn't need to be so large if not for your enormous cock," Felix retorts, and Dimitri has the gall to _blush_. Dimitri's cock is proportionate, and with Felix, for all his muscle, being slender, he's yet to get Dimitri inside him. They've managed two fingers, and Felix would have Dimitri eat him out all day, every day if he could, but that mountain still remains unclimbed. Or unfucked. Hence the dildo, and Felix's stubborn determination to conquer it so he can conquer Dimitri.

The dildo glistens, and Felix's palm tingles, already missing the unique shape in his hand: a succession of ridges along the increasing width of it, ending in a large bulge. 

“Come up here.”

Dimitri obeys, leaning back against the pillows and opening his arms for Felix. Felix settles into his favorite place: the broad plane of Dimitri’s body, radiating heat; the rise and fall of his breath, the thud of his heartbeat; his scent, sweat and weapons oil; the pleased rumble in his chest when Felix tilts his face up for a kiss. He nuzzles at Felix’s ear when they part, says, “Where would you like my hands?”

Felix drapes one leg over Dimitri’s, then considers. The toy was expensive, and for all Dimitri’s control these days, he can still break things when excited. But it’d be a waste for Dimitri to do nothing, and Felix loves him, wants him to be involved.

“Touch my chest, to start with.”

“Of course, beloved.” Dimitri’s hands, warm and calloused, sweep up from Felix’s hips, lighting little fires in their wake, to heft and cup Felix’s tits. Dimitri’s hands are wonderful, rough and strong and yet gentle, and even so, Dimitri knows Felix well enough to know he likes a little pain with his pleasure. He captures Felix’s nipples between thumb and forefinger, plucks them until they swell red and puffy, the sweet ache making Felix tighten about empty air.

Oh, right, the dildo. 

Licking his lips, he traces the tip down between his folds until it catches on the opening, the sudden pressure making him hiss. He settles his free hand over his mound, starts drawing lazy circles over his clit with his forefinger that set his muscles to tightening. 

Carefully, Felix rocks the toy into himself. The first ridge spreads him wide, the stretch burning just a bit, but when he clenches about it the texture rubs at him, sends sparks racing up his spine. He shifts, arches into the pleasure, into the weight of Dimitri’s hands.

“How does it feel?” Dimitri asks. “I can feel your heart racing; is it good?” 

“So far,” Felix breathes, and twists the toy, pushing it deeper. He shudders as the next ridge pops in, the sudden burst of heat surprising a gasp out of him, and strokes his clit faster. “The texture is-” he tightens around the toy’s girth, the incredible press of it, “-interesting.”

Dimitri continues to caress Felix’s chest, his trembling belly, and drops slow, sucking bites and kisses at the nape of his neck, the curve of his shoulder. His breath is drowned beneath the thud of Felix’s heartbeat, growing ever louder as he works the toy deeper. Unlike fingers or a tongue, it’s utterly unyielding, offers no quarter: only insists upon more and more sensation, the walls of his cunt rocked by the texture and width.

At last, Felix has come to the bulb just before the base. He’s shuddering, his muscles twitching, his breathing quick, and it falls to Dimitri to drizzle more oil onto the toy. Then, Dimitri’s fingers delve to where Felix is stretched tight and hot and quivering, trace a delicate circle there, and draw his wetness up to stroke over his clit for one white-hot second before his hand settles heavy on Felix’s abdomen.

“You can do this, my love,” Dimitri whispers, and so Felix takes a deep breath and nudges the dildo in. 

It stretches him impossibly wider, a sudden sharp flare of pain-pleasure, his back arching into it with a hoarse cry, before it sinks into him, spears him, leaves him caught and trembling and moaning, and the knowledge, that he’s done it, he’s conquered this, has him crying out, climax crashing through him. He shudders about the dildo, his body milking at it, the tension rippling through him in deep, slow waves that leave him breathless, weak with overpowering pleasure. The bulge fits perfectly against the rough spot just behind his pubic bone, works it with unerring efficiency, and a sharp spasm has him curling into himself with a choked sound, clear fluid squirting out around the toy’s base.

Dimitri gentles him through it with long strokes from his hips to his chest, whispering filthy praise against the side of Felix’s neck. “So _responsive_ , Felix - I adore it, I adore you-” His cock prods at the small of Felix’s back, but, ever the gentleman, he says nothing: only lays tiny sweet kisses along Felix’s cheekbone.

Sluggishly, Felix works the toy out of himself to hold it up in the candlelight. His fluids bead clear in every crevice, mixing with the oil, and Dimitri inhales a shocked breath at the sight. But there’s no disgust, only an awed hunger, in his voice when he says,

“Oh, Felix, you’re lovely.”

Felix reaches up to push his sweaty hair out of his face and says, smug even to his own ears,

“I believe you owe me your cock now.”


	5. Pining

_To Your Grace, the Duke of Fraldarius, from His Majesty, King of United Fodlan, Dimitri Alexandre Blaidydd:_

_Forgive me for continuing to be so far from you, and for the unfortunately extended length of my journey. There are endless rounds of deliberations in Almyran politics, and every committee and petty princeling must have their say. I trust that all is well in the Kingdom under your capable hands. Your hands-_

Felix frowns at the hastily crossed-out next line of the letter, then skims the rest of it. Dimitri's usually careful to a fault with official correspondence, insisting on writing it himself rather than leaving it to a scribe, and there are no further mistakes: only descriptions of Almyra's cuisine and architecture and detailed reports on the discussions over Fodlan's Locket. At the bottom, beneath the scrawled signature that the royal scribes despair of, Dimitri's written, _'Personal correspondence attached.'_

That explains the extra envelope with Dimitri's seal, then. Felix rolls over on the couch, snatching the letter and opening it with a dagger. The letter spills into his hand, and this is Dimitri's true handwriting: hurried, with blobs of dried ink where he shook his quill too hard, and Felix's chest warms with the sight of it.

_My dearest Felix-_

Goddess, the man's a sap, his adoration of Felix shining through in every letter.

_I had to continue my thoughts in private. We have been parted so long that even writing about your hands created enticing images in my mind, and I had to let you know how much I miss you at my side and in my chambers._

Felix's cheeks burn. For Dimitri to put romantic thoughts - even as mild as these - in a letter-

_I adore your hands, have I told you that?_

"Many times," Felix tells the paper. Still, it's always good to hear again.

_When you're thinking over a decree or a letter in council, and you place your fingers to the lips you've pursed in thought, there are times I can hardly look away. My thoughts become full of the most salacious things that I cannot bring myself to write. I am sure you can imagine._

Felix realizes, abruptly, that he's touching his lips. They tingle with the warmth of his fingertips. Damn Dimitri, now he's going to be forever aware of this. The rest of him stirs, warms, his cunt tightening and its existence pushing itself to the forefront of his mind.

_I love what your hands can do as well. Sometimes, when we're alone in our chambers, and you slide them between your gorgeous thighs-_

There's a giant ink stain obscuring the rest of the line, but the image is embedded in Felix's mind, his body pleading for touch. All right, then- he wets his fingers in his mouth, slides them inside the waistband of his loose sleeping trousers to curl between his folds. His cunt welcomes the touch, his clit nudging the side of his thumb. It's been weeks since he's seen Dimitri, and Saints damn him, he misses him with an ache like a dagger wound: his scent, his laugh, how he wraps his arms and legs about Felix in bed and clings like some sort of sea creature, and yes, his cock. The letter continues, the words bleeding together, becoming sloppy.

_Forgive my clumsiness above. I confess the mere thought of you and your body leaves me breathless sometimes. I long to feel your skin against mine, to hear the wanton sounds you make when quite overcome; they are my favorite sounds in the world. There's a little helpless gasp you let go, when I have done something you quite enjoy, that I would hear forever if I could._

Oh, Goddess. That Dimitri pays such close attention isn't a new thought - he's wonderful in bed, determined to search out all the spots that make Felix shudder - but for him to express it? And his writing's somehow become both more shaky and more filthy-

The image slams into his mind, has his hips bucking into his hand. Dimitri, at some writing desk far too small from him, with his mind full of memories of Felix, one hand on the desk, the other delving into his trousers, pulling out his cock. His cock, filling his hand, glistening at the tip with precome, and how Dimitri would drop his head back to expose the taut line of his throat, how he'd try to stifle his moans so the palace staff wouldn't hear.

He's wet, his fingertips slick with himself, and when he nudges them inside where he aches, his cunt clenches on them, sucks at them like he's desperate to be filled. He bites back a gasp, rubs his clit in quick, hard circles, and arches into the stretch and drag of his fingers inside himself, pleasure stuttering up his spine.

_I miss your warmth. I miss how, when I stroke my fingers over you where you're slick and tender and soft, you tremble, and sometimes you turn your face into my neck and whimper. How wet and tight you are, how you arch when I curl my fingers into you in just the right way._

Felix drops the letter and shoves his other hand into his trousers, trapping his clit between index and middle finger and fucking into it. His breathing fills the room, almost drowns out the creak of the couch and the wet sloppy noise of his cunt. His thighs tremble, his toes curl, as he works himself. Tension climbs higher in his body, his hole tightening around his fingers, his sweat-damp back curling into a straining arch.

He comes with a gasp of Dimitri's name, then falls back to the couch, shuddering. His limbs go leaden with satisfaction. He breathes out a long sigh, then flops his head to the side, reaching out to grab the crumpled letter. The ink changes color - Dimitri must have knocked over the inkwell - and the letters unfurl crisp and steady.

_Always unreservedly yours,_

_Dimitri_


	6. Worship

"You're staring," Felix says as he finishes drying his hair and drops the towel off the side of the bed. 

Dimitri, sitting cross-legged on the couch across from the foot of the bed, coughs. "I'd defy anyone not to stare at you, Felix. You're beautiful." His gaze darts to the two toys on the nightstand nearest Felix, and he blushes. "And I must say how much I appreciate you trying this for me."

Felix's cheeks warm. "It's not a hardship when I have you worshiping me with your gaze." Besides, Dimitri rarely requests anything in bed; he's always unerringly focused on giving Felix pleasure, so when Dimitri had stuttered in the afterglow one night how much he would love to see Felix filled in both holes... 

He leans back against the headboard, arranges himself: legs spread wide, hips propped up on a few pillows to let him access his ass. "Can you see clearly?"

Dimitri nods. "Perfectly." He's leaning forward on the couch, elbows on knees, and the intensity of his gaze is like a line of fire on Felix's skin: starting at Felix's face, drifting down over his chest, his narrow waist, settling on where Felix's exposed and vulnerable, the warm air of their bedroom an awful tease. His cock's already stirring beneath his loose sleeping trousers, and Felix's mouth waters.

Felix stretches to grab the first toy off the nightstand and dips his other hand in the dish of oil. This toy's new: a teardrop-shaped plug, made of shining silver with a loop at the base, that curves gently in his hand. It's heavier than he expected. He runs his slick hand down his belly, painting a line of shining oil, over his cunt, down to press at his hole. He's never tried anything in here before, but in theory it's supposed to be pleasurable.

He draws slow circles over the crinkled skin there, his brow furrowed; it's not unpleasant, his hole surprisingly sensitive, but it's not causing paroxysms of joy either. His body clutches at his fingertip when he rubs it across, and that has him hitching a breath alongside Dimitri's deep rumble, the noise prickling across Felix's skin.

"You're so gorgeous," Dimitri says, and the earnestness in his voice has Felix ducking his head, the back of his neck burning. Rather than reply, he eases his finger inside himself up to the knuckle, the heel of his hand bumping at his clit, and sinks back against the pillows on a sigh. 

"How does it feel?" Dimitri's attention is riveted to where Felix's hand works at himself. Sweat gleams in the fine golden hairs above his upper lip.

Felix twists his finger experimentally and pets with his thumb at where he's stretched around his knuckle, the sensation making him tighten. "Strange, mostly. Not as filling as I thought it'd be." This is disappointing.

He slips his finger out and rubs the remainder of the oil across the plug, then places the tip of the plug against his hole: slick, a little tender, tensing at the faint pressure of the metal. He shifts, takes a breath, and presses.

It's almost anti-climactic, how easily it slides in; his body widens to accept it, the metal passing smooth through his hole, and then clenches about the thin stem. Yet Dimitri's response makes it worth it; his hands clench on his knees, a low moan tearing from his chest, and he cocks his head, wolflike, nostrils flaring. All possession and pride and need, his eye burning with lust.

"Ah, Felix," he breathes. "The shine of silver against your skin-"

Felix tightens about the plug, and ah, now he understands why people enjoy this. The pressure's unyielding, heavy, and it draws his attention, makes him aware of this part of his body in a way he's never been before. Another careful arch and roll of his hips, and the pressure curls at his cunt through the thin membrane separating them. What would it be like to wear this while he fucks Dimitri? Would he be even tighter? Or - he inhales a shocked breath - might Dimitri like to have him there? Work him open and fuck him in his ass? It'd take time, but Dimitri is thoroughly patient, has never minded how long it takes to persuade Felix's body to accept him.

"What dirty thought did you have, Felix?" Dimitri says, low and greedy. "You tightened about the plug and blushed, the way I adore."

Felix hooks his finger in the silver loop of the plug and rocks it just to see Dimitri's reaction, then replies, "I was thinking one day you'd like to fuck me here."

Dimitri lunges to his feet at that and shoves his trousers off. His cock smacks against his belly and leaves a spot glistening, before he drops a hand to curl about himself and strokes, his breathing ragged. "Oh, my love - yes. I would have every part of you you'd allow." 

Smug, Felix reaches aside to pick up the dildo and slicks it up, too, the oil dotting the sheets. He drags the tip down through his folds until it rests on the bottom edge of his hole, then, biting his lip, nudges it into his cunt.

The drag, the stretch and burn, works its way up his spine like a familiar friend. The hitch of his hips rubs his clit against the heel of his hand, forces a sigh from him that morphs into a shuddering gasp when the head of the dildo rubs over the head of the plug within him.

As he presses it in further, luxuriates in the fullness, more and more of the dildo rubs against the plug through him. He's just... full, stretched and trembling, and every clench and shudder works the dildo against the fluttering walls of his cunt, makes the plug leap against his sensitized hole. The pressure's too good, he needs more-

"Come here," he demands, and yanks Dimitri's hand to his clit, his mouth to his lips.


	7. Free Day

"Felix, your elbow's in my stomach."

Felix grumbles and drags his arm away, draping it over his hip instead to lace his fingers with Dimitri. The motion sends the bathwater licking at the lip of the tub, a few drops spilling over onto the tile floor.

"That meeting was a disaster," he mumbles, leaning his head back on Dimitri's damp shoulder and turning his face into the strong line of his neck. "Why did we have to sit through the ramblings of a bunch of imperial revanchists?"

Dimitri's hand tightens over his, and a sigh vibrates where Felix's forehead rests against his throat. "When they're backed by so many of the former imperial nobility, it's best to at least hear their grievances." His thumb strokes at the thin line of dark hair trailing down from Felix's navel, and he adds, "Though it would have been productive if they were more willing to negotiate, I agree."

Felix lifts one dripping leg out of the bathwater and drapes it over the tub's edge. His free hand rests on Dimitri's kneecap where it breaches the water. Their lodgings in Enbarr don't have a bathtub large enough for Dimitri to stretch out, though in fairness, very few places do.

"I hope that tomorrow, once they've all had their say, I can make an offer they'll accept," Dimitri says. He pauses, then continues, "I would hate for this to break out into open conflict, even if they'd only be able to mount a defense for a short while. The people of Adrestia have suffered enough."

Felix cracks open an eye to peer up at Dimitri: the line of his jaw, fuzzy with the day's stubble; his tangled hair, dark with sweat; the hollow of his right eye socket, and the wet fringe of his lashes over his closed left eye, the thin skin beside it creased with faint lines. Still so good after all this time, wanting to negotiate with the fractious nobility he's conquered, even though it'd be easier to make them bow with military might. Wanting to find a compromise everyone can accept, and sitting for hour after hour listening to fallen nobles argue over land that is no longer theirs to rule.

Love brims in his chest, works its way out when he says,

"Anything I can do to help?"

Dimitri, his eye still closed, tilts his head to nuzzle at Felix's unbound hair and press a lazy kiss against his temple. "Having you in my arms is help enough."

Felix snorts, but drops a kiss against Dimitri's neck in silent thanks before closing his eye again. They drift together, hands entwined, Felix encompassed in the strength of Dimitri's body. His long thighs bracket Felix's hips, and the skin of his knee shivers when Felix thumbs at the groove, Dimitri blowing out a huffed laugh against the top of Felix's head. His heart beats slow and calm against Felix's spine, and his free hand cups Felix's chest, thumb circling one of Felix's areolae, scooping the heated water over where his nipple's drawn into a stiff peak. The sharp spike of pleasure as Dimitri's thumb passes over his nipple makes Felix tense, his cunt clench and throb below the water's surface.

There's an idea. Dimitri does love to watch Felix bring himself pleasure, and sometimes, when Dimitri's worn thin with voices and the demands of a kingdom, he prefers only to watch, free of the expectation to perform. 

Felix extricates his hand from Dimitri's, who mutters complaint, and pushes it downward, over the springy coarse curls of hair, to spread thumb and forefinger over his clit, the hard little bud nudging at the web where the fingers join. The sensation makes him hiss between his teeth, hips rocking up into the pressure.

It's obvious Dimitri's noticed; he swallows hard, his heartbeat speeding up, and his hand, warmer than the lukewarm bathwater, presses, trembling, against the plain of Felix's stomach. Still, he says nothing, only keeps up the same steady curl and drag of his thumb over Felix's nipple, the tender skin red and sensitive and throbbing beneath the insistent drag of his callused thumb.

The sound of water lapping at the edge and falling to the tile grows as Felix rocks harder against his hand, using his thumb to rub quick circles on the left side of his clit. The water slicks the way, makes it almost impossibly easy, and he tenses as pleasure winds hot and tight and demanding within him.

His foot, dangling in the air out of the tub, curls. His hand tightens too much on Dimitri's knee, and Dimitri kicks, sending another wave of water sloshing into the puddle on the floor.

"Ah, damn, the housekeeping staff-" Dimitri starts, his hand pausing on Felix's breast, and seriously, _now_? 

Felix bites back a snarl, his hips stuttering, and yanks his hand off Dimitri's knee, slaps at the back of Dimitri's hand with a groan of "Get on with it!"

"Oh!" Dimitri, thankfully, gets right back on with it, and yes, all right, Felix wants to bite at the laugh he can feel shuddering in Dimitri's broad chest, but also he wants to _come_ , damn it, and he's so close-

His thumb burns as he presses at his clit, stroking tight and hard, but the burn licking up his spine is better, hotter-

Felix bucks against the press of Dimitri's hand, gasping, and, yes, this is a good one, the second wave rises in him, crests in another blinding white tide. He throws his head back against the bar of Dimitri's shoulder, shudders through the roll and throb of climax, his entire being collapsing into lassitude. 

Dimitri gentles him down, drags lips against his temple, the side of his face, and when Felix opens his eyes, Dimitri gazes back, adoration shining in his eye.

"That helped, Felix." Another kiss, this time on Felix's slack lips, and, murmured against his mouth, "How I adore you, my love."

Felix replies with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Hozier's 'In the Woods Somewhere.' Reviews, comments, and constructive criticism are all welcome! My Twitter handle is 'carthageburning', should you want to follow me there.


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